


A Solstice Story

by EbonyLyre



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Holiday, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Winter Solstice, could be canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyLyre/pseuds/EbonyLyre
Summary: On the longest night before Meteorfall, Sephiroth receives visitors.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters belong to Square Enix.

_My last Winter Solstice,_ Sephiroth thinks, observing Midgar's holiday decorations through one of his clones. _By this time next year Gaia will be no more._

He should be feeling happy--and the thought of never seeing the garish "holiday red" color again does bring him satisfaction--but a small, stubborn part of him feels an obscure pang of...something at the sound of reverent music and the sight of so many people wearing sincere, warm smiles.

 _Foolish sentiment,_ Calamity's son decides. _Remnants from my human self._

He withdraws his attention from the clone, intending to switch to the mind one of his monsters in Junon. Instead, Sephiroth detects another consciousness hovering on the edge of his awareness. Confident in his mental fortitude and curious about who--or what--his visitor could possibly be, the one-winged angel invites the other being into his mindscape. As the being manifests, Sephiroth inhales sharply. "Angeal?"

"Merry Solstice, Sephiroth," Angeal greets. If he noticed the thread of yearning in his host's voice, he gives no sign of it.

"Are you-" _like me?_

"No," Angeal replies with a soft smile. "I didn't hold on to life. This is a construct of me, created by collecting my scattered memories from the Lifestream.”

"I see," Sephiroth says, hoping his flat tone hides his disappointment. "Who constructed you then? Why are you here?"

Angeal dismisses Sephiroth's questions with a wave. "All in due time," he says. "Right now, what you need to know is that I won't be your only visitor tonight. There will be three--possibly four--after me." Angeal pauses to choose his words. "I made a mistake when I didn't ask you to leave Shinra and join Genesis and me," he admits looking Sephiroth straight in the eye. "I lost sight of the fact that all else aside, I was your friend. And friends don't leave each other behind."

The one-winged angel is silent. His past self would have wept to hear those words; now it's too little too late.

Angeal bows his head. Then he takes a deep breath and walks towards his erstwhile companion. "This manifestation won't last much longer," Angeal says. "And I doubt we'll meet again. If...if there's any part of you that still considers me a friend...any part of you that can forgive me for my foolish actions, then consider it my last request that you receive the other visitors. Allow them to enter your mindscape and listen to their messages. They will not be able harm you."

Calamity's son considers the matter. _It is the prerogative of a god to be magnanimous when suits him...and it_ _**is** Winter Solstice._ Sephiroth inclines his head. "I will honor your request."

Angeal smiles though, unlike those of the children in Midgar, his smile is edged with sadness. "Thank you. I hope..." He shakes his head. "Merry Solstice," he repeats instead.

"Merry-" The word is scarcely out of his mouth before SOLDIER First Class Angeal Hewley vanishes. Sephiroth's hand, which had risen as though to grab the apparition, falls back to his side. The one-winged angel forces himself to ignore his pang of grief and focus on the future. _Four visitors_ , he muses, _who could they be?_


	2. The First Act

Through his clones in Midgar, Sephiroth hears the few mechanical clocks left chime nine times. Simultaneously, a consciousness appears at the edge of his awareness much like Angeal did. Sephiroth invites the consciousness in. "Hello-"

"Merry Solstice," Professor Gast says.

"You're not Genesis." Sephiroth blames shock for his statement of the obvious.

"Genesis doesn't know the past as I do."

Sephiroth's throat tightens unexpectedly. "All those years ago, Professor," he says, "why didn't you tell me anything?"

Professor Gast sighs. "I could say it was because the last time I saw you you were three years old, but that'd be a lie. You were a precocious child. I don't doubt that you would have been able to understand."

"Then why?" Sephiroth demands.

The professor smiles faintly. "Why don't I show you?" He waves his arm and a portal appears. "Stepping through will bring us into one of my memories," Gast explains. "Perhaps you'll find your answers."

Sephiroth eyes the portal warily. Angeal said his visitors would not be able to inflict harm. And Sephiroth had promised to listen. He manifests a copy of Masamune just in case, but steps through the portal.

❈✯❈✯❈

Sephiroth sweeps his gaze around the crowded room. He recognizes Professor Gast right away, but can't place the oddly familiar woman standing next to him. They're leaning over a bassinet where a baby lies asleep. The one-winged angel releases Masamune; it's useless in such tight quarters and the professor wouldn't bring Sephiroth into a memory like this to commit violence.

"She's beautiful," memory-Gast says reverently.

The woman beside him giggles. "You've said that twice already, and that's just today!"

"And I'll say it again," memory-Gast states, refusing to be embarrassed. "We made a beautiful daughter, Ifalna."

 _Ifalna._ The name rings a bell, but Sephiroth can't quite place it...

"I met Ifalna shortly after you were born," Professor Gast says from beside him. "The Turks followed rumors about 'the last Ancients' until they tracked her down. They told her President Shinra wanted to meet with her because he wanted to know more about mako. Ifalna thought that meant the President wanted to know whether planetologists were right about mako being finite. She went with the Turks willingly, thinking that as the last of the Cetra it was her duty to tell the world the truth about the energy they were harvesting. How it comes from Gaia's Lifestream and how Shinra's exploitation was putting all living things at risk."

A sound of derision escapes Sephiroth.

Professor Gast's gaze leaves his happy family and meets Sephiroth's. "This was before the public started hearing whispers about Shinra's Turks," he points out. "Before SOLDIER and the rumors of human experimentation. There was no reason to think that Shinra was anything other than an energy company, or that its president was anything other than a businessman."

Sephiroth nods, conceding the point.

The professor turns to his family once more. "There was no way for Ifalna to know that President Shinra was one of the deluded people who believed human translations of Cetra scriptures should be taken literally. She came to talk about the Lifestream. He tried everything to make her talk about the Promised Land."

"They aren't in a Shinra building now," Sephiroth notes. Shinra didn't build with brick and wood.

"I helped Ifalna escape," Professor Gast reveals. "After I was introduced to her, I told Ifalna about the discovery I made in the North Crater. She was horrified and explained to me that what I taken to be a Cetra was in fact the enemy almost all the Cetra died to defeat. I didn't want to believe her, but I could not deny that she had rounded pupils and other features that would not be out of place on a human."

"So you abandoned me."

"No!" the professor exclaims. "I left because I had to get Ifalna away before Shinra killed her. But as soon as I was convinced of Jenova’s true nature, I went to Hojo with the information. He-. After Lucretia disappeared, he was given full control over you. Even though I was the head of Shinra's Science Research Department, I had to have his permission to interact with you. In the past he'd always consented, but the minute I explained why I wanted to see you..."

"He cut off access?"

Professor Gast's shoulders slump. "When you were a child, you thought Hojo was powerful because he was the adult who dictated every aspect of your life. In reality, until you proved yourself in the Wutai War, Hojo had nothing but some talent and great ambition. He'd bet his career and the life of his love on you. To hear that it had been for nothing...he couldn't accept it. He forbid me from ever having contact with you again."

Sephiroth frowns. "He loved my mother?"

"Lucrecia Crescent was beautiful and intelligent," the professor replies with a note of wistfulness. "Had Grimoire Valentine lived... In any case, Hojo admired her for years, but never approached her. He thought he stood no chance when there were better looking, richer men vying for her affections. Even after they married, he never stopped looking at her as though she'd disappear. Perhaps," Gast muses, "part of why Hojo crossed so many lines with Project S was because he was determined to prove his worth to Lucrecia."

Sephiroth considers the information. "How come I didn't find any of this in the Lifestream?"

Professor Gast raises an eyebrow. "Did you look?" he asks pointedly. "You thought you knew everything that mattered about your past."

"But wouldn't my-wouldn't Lucrecia have sought me out?"

The professor tilts his head, as though listening for a sound only he can hear. Eventually, he says, "I'm afraid that answer isn't for me to give."

Sephiroth looks at the scientist he respects steadily. Seeing no sign of evasiveness or spiteful glee, he reluctantly nods.

"It wouldn't have been right to spring that sort of information on you in writing," Professor Gast says, resuming the original topic, "so I said nothing of it in letter I bribed the assistant to give to you. I thought... I thought that when you were older and had more freedom, I could contact you and explain everything. Part of the research I carried out here at the Icicle Inn was to see if Ifalna could help you. Among the Cetra, Jenova granted her hosts superior physiques, but at the cost of mental stability. I feared the same would hold true for you."

Calamity's son says nothing.

A baby's babbling interrupts the silence. The infant in the memory is awake now, and memory-Gast is having fun encouraging the child to talk by repeating back all the nonsense syllables.

"If you keep talking to her like that she'll never learn to speak properly," Ifalna admonishes.

"Nonsense," memory-Gast replies. "Aerith here is the smartest little girl in the world. She'll be able to speak any language she wants when she grows up."

Sephiroth stares at his companion in shock. "Aerith?" he says. "You're daughter's name...was Aerith?"

Professor Gast smiles sadly. "I told you Ifalna's the last of the Cetra earlier, didn't I?"

The one-winged angel looks away. "I didn't know," he says at last.

The professor tilts his head. "Does it matter? Truly?" he asks.

"I-" _She was the last of the Ancients. A threat to my plans. Her existence imperiled mine._ Unable to answer, Sephiroth changes the topic. "I killed your daughter," he states bluntly, "yet you did not come to me to seek retribution."

"I wanted to," Professor Gast admits easily. "Immediately after my spirit was remade, when I could once more comprehend my ties to others, I discovered my daughter's death and in my grief and anger, I wished to inflict equal harm on her murderer."

"But?"

"But vengeance is not justice. Vengeance does not grant peace, only temporary satisfaction. Had I raised my hand against Aerith's murder, it would not have brought my daughter back. It would have only added more grief and anger to the world through another set of bereft parents."

Sephiroth examines the professor's words. "So you do not seek to harm me," he concludes.

"No."

Sephiroth tilts his head, thinking of Angeal. "What about forgiveness? Surely you cannot be so charitable as to pardon me when I have not even offered an apology."

Professor Gast looks away towards where memory-him is tossing Aerith into the air. The baby's shrieks of delight seem to mock Sephiroth.

 _This was the man you admired_ , Sephiroth's conscience whispers. _The man who showed you kindness, who was living proof that goodness could exist in the world. And you repaid him by killing his daughter_.

_I didn't know!_

_You didn't **want** to know._

"Forgiveness is a tricky thing," the professor says at last, drawing Sephiroth out of his thoughts. "I never forgave myself for the role I played in your conception. Can you?"

Sephiroth blinks. "You made an honest mistake," he protests. "And you weren't the one who suggested injecting alien cells into an embryo or an expecting mother!"

"But I didn't stop them," Professor Gast points out. "I didn't stop Hojo or Hollander. As the expert on Jenova, I could have declared that there was no way her genetic makeup would be compatible with humans. Then Hojo and Hollander would have never received funding for their projects."

"Why didn't you?"

The professor shrugs. "Arrogance? Foolish hope? I was convinced I was right about the identity of the being we found. I wanted to do the world a service by reviving the lineage of the Cetra. My intentions blinded me to the dangers I could be unleashing on the world if I was wrong."

"You were trying to do good," the one-winged angel insists. "There's nothing to forgive."

"And you?" Professor Gast questions. "What were you trying to do?"

"Get rid of an obstacle," Calamity's son snarls. "Aerith--your daughter--was _in my way_."

"So you don't feel you deserve my forgiveness?"

"No!"

"Well, you have it anyway." Professor Gast raises a hand to quell Sephiroth's protest. "Forgiveness is a tricky thing," he repeats. "Because for every reason to hold on to anger and bitterness, there are twice as many reasons to let go."

"I don't...understand."

The corner of the professor's lips twitches fondly. "You forgave me for the mistakes I made, despite the years of inhumane treatment you suffered through. That proves there's still good in you, my boy. So for both our sakes, I forgive you. I will not end my existence on a terrible note, clinging to hatred and bitterness. Nor I will wrong you further by making you believe think you are loathed by one of the few people you admire and care about."

Sephiroth has never felt more lost.

"I'm afraid my time is up, dear child," Professor Gast says kindly. "Merry Solstice, and thank you for giving me closure."

"Wait-!" Sephiroth cries, but it's too late. The memory dissolves, and with it, the last of Professor Gast Faremis.


	3. The Second Act

Away from Professor Gast's presence, Sephiroth begins to question his earlier statements.

 _Do I truly believe there’s nothing to forgive?_ he wonders. _Or was I caught up in the elation of seeing Professor Gast again? Or distracted by the unexpected answers about my past?_

 _Professor Gast had good intentions,_ his conscience reminds him.

_I had good intentions in Nibelheim. At that point I truly believed I was killing the traitors who’d left the An- the Cetra to die. No one has forgiven **me** because my intentions were good._

_Professor Gast didn’t intend harm,_ his conscience points out. _You meant to kill all those people._

_What about Genesis then? I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn't know--and couldn't have known--that I could harm him irreparably. But he never forgave me._

_Aren't you better than Genesis in every way?_ his conscience retorts.

Before his thoughts can circle further, Midgar’s clocks chime ten times. As the last note fades out, a new presence appears. Sephiroth hesitates, but remembers his promise and lets the visitor in.

"Heya!" Aerith greets. She's wearing the outfit she died in--a red jacket over a pink dress.

 _Trying to provoke guilt?_ Sephiroth wonders.

The Cetra approaches Calamity's son without hesitation and offers him a sprig of poinsettia. "Merry Solstice."

Sephiroth stares at the plant. "...Merry Solstice," he manages.

"Well?" Aerith demands. "You murdered me in cold blood. The least you can do is accept a flower."

For the first time, Sephiroth can see Professor Gast's influence in Aerith's features. His hand rises before he can suppress the impulse.

The former florist smiles mischievously. Quick as lightning she tucks the stem of the poinsettia under the straps across Sephiroth's chest. The plant's scarlet leaves come to rest directly over the one-winged angel's sternum, as though freshly dyed with his heart's blood.

"It's there or in your hair," Aerith threatens when Sephiroth reaches for the decoration. "Or _both_ ," she adds, plucking another sprig of poinsettia out of thin air.

The strategist in Sephiroth concedes the battle. No one else will see him like this after all. And the sooner he stopped fighting Aerith over trivialities, the sooner he can get to the bottom of why she of all people has come to see him.

 _Is **Ifalna** next?_ a part of him wonders.

"Consider it a thank you for letting me meet my father."

Sephiroth's brow wrinkles minutely.

"His spirit had almost fully dissolved into the Lifestream by the time I arrived," Aerith explains, tucking the second sprig into her braid. "The- the Lifestream had to pull him back together to talk to you, which gave me the chance to meet with him too."

"You guilted me into accepting a thank-you present," Sephiroth states flatly. The one-winged angel had stalked and spied on Cloud's merry band of misfits, but he'd never interacted with the Cetra until that day in the Forgotten City. _Was this how Cloud felt whenever he talked with her?_ Calamity's son wonders.

"Yep! But enough about the past," Aerith announces, "It's Solstice after all--time for the present!" With a dramatic flourish, the Cetra summons a portal. "Let's mosey!"

Bemused as to what Aerith could possibly want to show him, Sephiroth steps through.

❈✯❈✯❈

Sephiroth blinks in surprise and glances at the brunette beside him.

Aerith nods. "We're seeing what's actually happening."

"You are helping me spy on your friends?" Sephiroth questions.

"It's Solstice," the flower girl points out cheerfully. "They're hardly plotting your demise right now."

"They" are sitting around the hearth of an inn. Red XIII is stretched out before the flames, enjoying the way Cloud's fingers comb through his fur. Tifa sits next to Cloud, offering silent support. Vincent is the furthest away, having chosen a perch right on the border between light and darkness. In between are Cid and Barrett, who are resting heavily against the sofa. Each of the two men holds a mostly empty tankard in his hand. Yuffie is cross-legged on the floor humming a Wutaian melody as she paints Cait Sith's moogle with red, green and metallic designs. The robotic cat himself is curled up on the moogle's head, seemingly asleep. Placed among the small crowd is a conspicuously empty armchair.

"Cloud?" Tifa asks.

The blond's head turns a little.

"What are you thinking about?"

Cloud shrugs.

"It's Solstice Eve, Cloud! Give your skinny ass a break from brooding!"

Tifa glares at Barrett. "Families celebrate Solstice together, right?" she asks with an encouraging smile. "So if we're celebrating together, that means we're family now."

Cloud's hand pauses in its movement. "It's stupid," he says quietly before resuming his petting.

Red XIII cracks an eye open, but it's Yuffie who speaks up. "Nope! Nothing's stupid on Solstice!"

Cloud glances around. Seeing all eyes on him, he sighs. "It's my first Solstice since...Nibelheim. After what happened in the past five years, it feels a bit like...like my first Solstice ever. I was thinking that I'm lucky to have you guys. To have people to celebrate with. And that led me to think about… _him_. How he's in an empty cave, by himself, during Solstice. And so is his mother."

Sephiroth stills. Shaking off the paralysis with an impatient twitch of his head, the one-winged angel makes a mental note to interrogate Cloud later.

Cid raises his head a little to peer at his tankard. "Spikes, how much 'nog did I have?" he slurs. "Or did _you_ drink all of it?"

"Wutai doesn't celebrate Solstice," Yuffie contributes, "but I'd still feel left out if I were here with no one to celebrate with."

"Alone does not mean lonely," Vincent counters. "Not if one prefers isolation."

"I don't think Se- I don't think he has _ever_ properly celebrated Solstice though," Cloud asserts. He seems to have decided that since he's speaking, he might as well get all of his thoughts out. "He was with Shinra his whole life. The company would have had a holiday party every year, but he would've attended those as...Shinra's poster boy. The company's pet SOLDIER. Not as...someone who enjoys swordplay. And...dramatic clothes? And the company of family and friends."

Ironically, Sephiroth is grateful for the giggle that escapes Aerith at Cloud's fashion comment; glaring at the unrepentant Cetra gives him an excuse to look away from his sickeningly compassionate puppet.

"What?" Aerith challenges. "Everything you wear is more flamboyant than practical."

Spehiroth's gaze flicks back to crowd before the hearth, but he's no longer taking in the sights and sounds. A lifetime of concealing his motivations and weaknesses urges him to scoff and dismiss the florist…but Aerith is dead and cannot harm him. And Sephiroth finds himself wanting _someone_ to know his side of the story. "It didn't start out that way," he says softly.

When Aerith remains silent, he continues. "My first coat was a little dramatic," Sephiroth admits, "because it was part of a child's costume. The coat was a pirate's coat so it had gold trim. And the boots were pirate boots so they rose high on my calves and had buckles."

"And you were wearing a costume because...?"

"Because Shinra didn't have protective clothing in my size when I joined the war in Wutai, and the President wasn't about to order a custom job for an unproven child. A lab assistant bought me the costume. The coat and boots were made of thick leather so he thought they could provide some protection. He apologized when he presented me with the outfit," Sephiroth recalls, "because they were so expensive he could only afford a second-hand set."

"Did the set come with a shirt?" Aerith asks archly.

The corner of Sephiroth's lips twitches. "Yes. A rough-spun tunic, fit for a pirate. But the coat trapped so much heat that I couldn't stand to wear anything underneath."

"Except suspenders," the flower girl notes.

Sephiroth inclines his head. "I used a magnetic harness before I acquired Masamune. As the first SOLDIER to use it, I got the trial version which was attached to X-suspenders instead of Y's. I didn't want more layers over my back, so I crossed the straps in the front."

Aerith frowns. "Why did you keep such a makeshift uniform? Surely you had better options after Wutai?"

"I'd gotten used to fighting in it. And it felt good to say 'No, thank you,' to the President," Sephiroth replies with a faint smile.

Aerith laughs. "He made you add that belt though," she guesses, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

"Indeed," Sephiroth confirms dryly. "He modified the rules so SOLDIER Firsts could customize their uniforms, but the SOLDIER logo must be displayed prominently." The ex-employee's eyes dim a little. "By the time I outgrew the pirate coat, Genesis and Angeal had also been promoted to 1st Class. We became the face of Shinra, so from then on all of our uniform decisions were turned over to the PR department."

"I see," Aerith says sympathetically.

A comfortable silence descends as Calamity's son and the last Cetra observe the humans in the inn. Evidently they'd missed something because Yuffie is now chasing Cait Sith around the room, leaving the poor moogle half-painted.

"I never got to thank the assistant properly," Sephiroth reflects after a while. "When I went back to Midgar after the war, he didn't work in the lab anymore. I made inquiries, but no one seemed to know where he went." The ex-SOLDIER glances at the Cetra. "Perhaps Hojo experimented on him for showing kindness to me."

To his surprise, Aerith frowns. "I can look for him in the Lifestream," she says slowly, "but it'll take time if all you can tell me is he was once Hojo's assistant." The Cetra tilts her head, "Are you going to thank him right before erasing his spirit forever?"

Calamity's son blinks. He gazes at Aerith for a long moment before shifting his attention to Cloud. "So I, too, betray the undeserving," he muses. "It seems…one way or another, we're all traitors in the end."

"No," Aerith declares, eyes flashing. "You're _wrong_. Everyone makes mistakes but not everyone is defined by them. No one who tries to atone for their wrongdoings _should_ be defined by them."

"Actions have consequences though. Only rarely can what's done be undone."

"But consequences aren't always a bad thing," Aerith points out. "We become wiser when we learn from the results of our actions. And if it's true that what's done can rarely be undone, it's also true that consequences rarely last forever. Time heals most things."

Sephiroth scoffs. "Did time bring back your mother? Or your father?"

"No," Aerith says evenly, "but time brought me Elmyra. Time brought me Zack, and Cloud, and Tifa, and countless others. I don't have to define my life by what I've lost when I can choose to define it by what I've gained."

Calamity's son turns back to the Cetra and locks their gazes. "Tell me then," he sneers, "what will you gain when I take everything from you?"

Something flits across Aerith's face. For a fleeting moment, in the space between heartbeats, she transforms from a twenty-something years old young woman to an extraordinary representative of her civilization, then back. "You pride yourself on being better superior, right?" she challenges. "So why don't you answer me first: what will you lose when you take everything for yourself?"

The two legacies of the past stand in silence as the light from the hearth slowly diminishes.

Just before Midgar's clocks begin to chime anew, Sephiroth speaks. "Merry Solstice, Aerith Faremis Gainsborough."

"Merry Solstice, Sephiroth Crescent," she replies, before vanishing alongside their view of the present.

In the spot where she stood rests a yellow lily.


	4. The Third Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: The flower is a vow.  
> Autocorrect: The flower is a cow?

Sephiroth contemplates the yellow lily as he counts out eleven chimes. The flower is a vow: 'we will meet again' or 'together forever' depending on the culture of the giver. Coming from a Cetra, it seems like a pointed reminder of Jenova's hollow promises. But Aerith doesn't seem like the cruel sort...

The one-winged angel lifts his head, detecting the arrival of his last visitor. _Though Angeal did say there may be a fourth,_ he reminds himself. Stifling a sigh, Sephiroth puts on his expressionless mask and invites in the foreign presence.

As his visitor materializes, Sephiroth's eyes widen. His Jenova-given instincts engage and he tries to seize control of the hooded figure before all the details of his? her? its? appearance fully register. The impulse to assert dominance fades as Calamity's son notes the plainness of the visitor's cloak; it is utterly undecorated and wholly intact. The one-winged angel's eyes narrow. This creature is not one of his clones, but the full-length, pitch-black attire cannot be coincidence.

His visitor comes to a stop before the yellow lily. He? she? it? bends down and stretches out a pale hand to pick up the flower. As the spirit straightens, the lily's petals pale to white, its orange anthers deepen to blue, and the supporting filaments shimmer to silver. The visitor offers it to Sephiroth.

Guessing the spirit's intent, Sephiroth accepts the sculpture. "Merry Solstice," he replies.

Pleasantries observed, the visitor conjures a portal.

❈✯❈✯❈

The first thing Sephiroth notices after stepping through is the cold. From past experience he knows that when the temperature is low enough for him to notice, it's so low that normal humans need to wear layers to stay warm. Even then, it's best if the humans remain in motion until they can access an external heat source.

_The cold explains the lack of people, but..._

Sephiroth turns and looks in every direction. Nothing. There isn't even a platform beneath his feet. Endless darkness surrounds him, broken by countless pinpoints of light...and one large orb that forces Sephiroth's pupils to constrict to their thinnest when he looks directly at it. No movement, no sound, no smell. No sign of his visitor either. Sephiroth checks his hand and his chest; the lily and the poinsettia are gone too. His lips flatten. The one-winged angel enjoys intellectual challenges, but mind games are an altogether different matter. Straightening his shoulders, the he summons Masamune.

Based on his education and Mo- _Jenova's_ memories, Sephiroth concludes that he's in space. He's stepped into a memory of the past and a view of the present, so he's likely now in a vision of the future--a possible future to be precise, unless determinists are right. Given that the memory and the view disappeared along with the people that conjured them, Sephiroth's latest caller is likely still around somewhere. The question then is why is the visitor hiding? Isn't he--or she, or it--supposed to converse with Calamity's son and shake the tenets of his beliefs?

_Unless..._

More than once, Angeal had informed Genesis that the fire mage was his own worst enemy. Sometimes the words were said fondly, other times with exasperation, once in anger. It didn't matter if the world idolized Genesis; all the mage could see were his shortcomings. He wasn't strong enough to beat Sephiroth. His wasn't clever enough to stay uninjured. Even his body failed, succumbing to degradation while Sephiroth and Angeal remained hale. Isolated with nothing except perhaps a mirror, the fire mage would have torn himself to shreds.

**_I am not Genesis._ **

The one-winged angel releases Masamune. If what Gast and Aerith showed him was true, then he is likely seeing an accurate image of the universe around Gaia. That makes this vision an excellent opportunity to gather information on where to go after he destroys the planet. Calamity's son smirks. _Genesis did get one thing right: "a worthy opponent lets no mistake go unpunished."_

Sephiroth begins to scan his surroundings and commits each dot of light to memory. An area of the void where the stars are so thick they form a band of light provides an excellent point of reference so Sephiroth starts there. _The Silver Ribbon_ , he recalls from his astronomy books. The one-winged angel knows from Jenova's memories that after it consumed everything except the star in its local planetary system, the alien aimed itself towards the densest patch of lights it could see from its corner of the galaxy. Its civilization did not study the skies, so Jenova had no idea how far it would have to travel to reach the next planetary system; it could only reason that moving itself towards more stars would lead to it finding more palatable satellites. By the time the alien reached the Sol system, it had exhausted most of its resources. Pared down to its instincts, Jenova headed straight for Gaia because said planet contained the most spirit energy. Had the alien still been capable of reasoning, it would have realized that Gaia's unusual amount of energy could only be the result of possessing an abundance of native life. It would have also perceived the danger of attacking said native life while depleted from a long voyage. A less-weary Jenova would have invaded Mars first. Replenished by the red planet's core, it would have been the work of a moment for the alien to defeat the Cetra.

Sephiroth will not make the same mistakes. Since Gaia has astronomers, Calamity's heir is well aware of how far away the stars can be. Sol aside, the luminosity, size and density of the lights he sees have little to with their proximity. When Sephiroth consumes the Lifestream, he will make sure to preserve the expertise of Gaia's stargazers. With his and their knowledge combined, the one-winged angel will be able to locate all the star systems close by and devour their planets first. If there are enough planets, his power may even swell to the point where he can consume stars. Then he will truly be unstoppable.

Thanks to his faculties, it takes Sephiroth hardly any time to memorize his surroundings. He estimates it's around half past midnight, so he relaxes into a meditative pose to enjoy the serenity of his surroundings.

 _"What will you lose?"_ Aerith had asked him.

"Look at what I will gain," Sephiroth replies into the void. It's beautiful out here. The stars remind him of rubies, sapphires and diamonds. A faint smile appears on his lips and refuses to be banished.

 _Mine,_ the one-winged angel thinks. _This will all be mine._

After some time, Sephiroth shifts. Shortly after, he shifts again. He can scarcely believe it, but he's...bored? Everything is beautiful, but it's all so...still. Repetitive. The one-winged angel searches Jenova's memories for how it handled the monotony, but there's nothing there except its recollections of hunger and satiation.

 _Jenova must have put itself into some sort of stasis,_ Sephiroth realizes. _Once it conquered its home planet, all that was left to do was choose a direction of travel, sleep until arrival, wake up to eat, repeat._

Sephiroth lets out a noise of displeasure at the thought of mediating for decades, if not centuries. As though the sound were a cue, something moves at the edge of his vision. The one-winged angel whirls around, rising to his feet and summoning Masamune.

His visitor is back. The cloak it wears is now a familiar shade of red. As Sephiroth watches, the spirit lowers his hood and confirms the one-winged angel’s suspicion.

"Genesis," Sephiroth greets coldly.

The fire mage smiles and proffers the poinsettia and the lily that disappeared with him:

> Even if the morrow is barren of promises
> 
> Nothing shall forestall my return
> 
> To become the dew that quenches the land
> 
> To spare the sands, the seas, the skies
> 
> I offer thee this silent sacrifice.

Sephiroth frowns. "That's not from LOVELESS."

Genesis lowers his hand when Sephiroth makes no move to take back the flowers. "It's the fifth act. I composed it after I met the Goddess."

Sephiroth's eyes widen. If he recalls correctly...:

> When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end
> 
> The goddess descends from the sky
> 
> Wings of light and dark spread afar
> 
> She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting.

"Indeed."

Sephiroth eyes the fire mage's hair. It is white, not auburn. And Genesis' complexion remains waxy. "If the Goddess is real, then she refused to gift you?"

"She was most generous with her gift."

Sephiroth forces himself to remain silent.

Genesis chuckles. "Even on a stage this spectacular, you refuse your cues." He sobers. "The Goddess offered to cure me; I asked for something else."

"What," Sephiroth snaps before he can restrain himself, "could possibly be more important to you than your cure?"

"The chance to right my greatest wrong."

Sephiroth feels his muscles tense to the point of rigidity.

"I wanted to be the Hero. But when I was tested, I did not examine my paths and choose the hero's journey." Genesis looks his erstwhile rival straight in the eye. "I played the role of the Prisoner instead, blindly following my desire for a restorative surely as a captive obeys his warden."

"I recall the prisoners we captured in the war being quite _disobedient_ ," Sephiroth sneers.

"Not the ones who wished to live and believed compliance would earn them mercy," Genesis says softly:

> Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul
> 
> Pride is lost
> 
> Wings stripped away, the end is nigh.

"Then why refuse the cure when it was finally within your grasp?"

"Because the Goddess helped me see that I sought to live because I was desperate to achieve my goal. Ironically, every action I took to stay alive pushed me further from success."

Sephiroth makes a noise of contempt. "So you were behind everything that happened tonight. Are you done now?"

To his surprise, Genesis shakes his head. "I asked for only the chance to right my wrong. To undo the harm caused by my spiteful words and actions. I did not expect the Goddess to bring Professor Faremis to you, or Ms. Gainsborough. Or give you the chance to say goodbye to Angeal." He smiles:

> There is no hate, only joy
> 
> For you are beloved by the goddess.

"I am not the hero of the dawn," Sephiroth says quietly, firmly. "Nor the healer of worlds."

The fire mage shrugs. "You can be."

"I thought we'd agreed it's your role."

Genesis laughs. "Would you let me? Truly?" he asks, eyes sparkling. Sephiroth has never seen the fire mage so carefree. With exaggerated solemnity, Genesis recites:

> My soul, corrupted by vengeance
> 
> Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey
> 
> In my own salvation
> 
> And your eternal slumber.

Amused in spite of himself, a wry smile emerges on Sephiroth's face. "It does seem one way or another, I'll be asleep for a long time. Perhaps for eternity if I miscalculate," he says, inclining his head towards the Silver Ribbon. The one-winged angel expected outrage or at least dismay at the implication that he's still intends to summon Meteor. He did not expect Genesis to smile with fondness and understanding. Genesis had never looked at him like that. That was how _Angeal_ looked at Genesis. Sephiroth's knuckles whiten around Masamune.

Genesis tilts his head the way Professor Gast did earlier. "My time is almost over," the fire mage says as he straightens. "I'm afraid you've one more appointment to keep."

"The Goddess?" Sephiroth guesses.

The fire mage frowns. "Must you spoil every surprise?"

"It was hardly a difficult conclusion to reach."

Genesis throws up his hands and begins to walk away. "Merry Solstice, Sephiroth," he calls over his shoulder. "I hope the Goddess gifts you with a better sense of humor."

Sephiroth laughs, startling them both. "Merry Solstice, Genesis."

Genesis Rhapsodos waves to acknowledge the reply, then disappears into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMAKE: (a little snippet that wouldn't fit)
> 
> Sephiroth glares at the orbs of light around him.
> 
>  _Shouldn't the stars at least be twinkling?_ he wonders.
> 
> When he'd first seen stars, before he understood they were lifeless balls of fire, Sephiroth had thought they communicated with one another by twinkling. Even after he learned of their true nature he'd like to imagine that the stars were actually alive, with language so sophisticated that no one on Gaia could learn it. In his daydreams, he would be the first human to master to their language, and when he did, the stars would invite him to join them. But over his lifetime, light and smog had polluted Gaia's skies until Sephiroth could no longer see the stars. Eventually, he set aside childish beliefs for good.
> 
> Why stars don't twinkle in space: https://starchild.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/StarChild/questions/question26.html  
> Why I referred to our planetary system as the Sol (proper noun) system, instead of solar (adjective) system: https://solarsystem.nasa.gov/solar-system/our-solar-system/overview/


	5. The Fourth Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Advent Day!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos/commented/bookmarked!

A presence emerges in his mindscape even as Genesis disappears. Sephiroth reacts instinctively, spinning around and slashing with Masamune. His blade strikes the being's armor, causing a beautiful sound to ring out. It is not the clang of metal hitting metal, nor the thud of metal hitting wood; a corner of Sephiroth's mind wonders if it's the sound of steel striking sanctitude. The greater part of his intellect is reacting to the fact that he'd just attacked a vastly more powerful opponent. _Is my spirit forfeit?_ the one-winged angel wonders as he lowers his sword. He straightens and keeps his chin high; he will neither grovel nor apologize for defending himself.

The Goddess does not move, so Sephiroth examines her appearance. Her armor is resplendent; endless details emerge wherever the one-winged angel looks. There are words in lost languages telling forgotten stories. There are esoteric designs hinting at gates to otherworldly powers beyond those wielded by Summons. Sephiroth doesn't know how much time he spends scrutinizing the armor, only that he eventually begins to feel uneasy--like he's forgetting something.

_Distracted?! You can't allow yourself to be distracted! Do you see me becoming distracted?_

The memory of Hojo's ire snaps Sephiroth out of his trance. Impotent fury swirls through him as he glares at the eye slits of the Goddess' helmet. Two traps, and he'd fallen for both.

The Goddess' armor fades, leaving her clad in a grayish-white grown of rough fiber. Sephiroth stills in surprise. His opponent appears young, perhaps around Cloud's age. Her hair is black and reaches just below her shoulders. Her eyes are the most interesting: brown, but lit from within by tendrils of mako green. They and the metal headband she wears are the only hints of her inhuman nature.

"Merry Solstice, Sephiroth," the Goddess says. Interestingly, her voice could belong to a man or a woman. In fact, her whole appearance is unexpectedly androgynous.

Concealing his wariness, Sephiroth replies in a carefully neutral tone. "Merry Solstice, Goddess." He dismisses Masamune.

The Goddess studies him, her solemn expression a jarring contrast to her apparent age. "To Genesis, I'm the Goddess. To you, I am Minerva."

"I would not presume to be so familiar," _Not yet._ Sephiroth replies, drawing upon his memories from Wutai's court. He doubts this being would be pleased by obsequiousness, even if he could bring himself to reproduce the mannerisms of Shinra employees.

Minerva tilts her head...an oddly human gesture. "Genesis considers me worthy of worship. You do not."

 _Another trap?_ "It is my understanding that you are a peerless being," Sephiroth replies. "You command the Lifestream, and you must possess extraordinary skill and intelligence to have slipped past my defenses so easily."

"Aerith negotiated your defenses," Minerva observes. "She also has significantly greater control over the Lifestream than humans."

Sephiroth opens his mouth to protest, but stops before any sound emerges. Aerith _had_ gotten past his defenses. She disabled them all when she convinced Calamity's legacy to invite her in. Sephiroth inspected Angeal before permitting the construct inside his mindscape, but the one-winged angel had been so convinced of the identity of his next visitor that he'd let Professor Gast in without checking. Then the professor's words had stirred such turmoil in Sephiroth that he'd all but yanked Aerith into his mind in his haste to be done with the encounter. Frost blooms in his chest as Sephiroth recalls the way the Cetra had plucked poinsettias out of thin air--and the way the lily had stayed after she left. On Angeal's word, Sephiroth had allowed an enemy who can summon Holy into his sanctum sanctorum without taking the slightest precaution.

_Tseng would have said, "Pride goes before destruction; haughtiness before a fall."_

Unease unfurls along Sephiroth's spine. Was everything a lie? His heritage, his convictions, and now his abilities?

_No. I kept myself whole in the Lifestream for five years. I controlled living beings from beyond the grave. I resurrected myself! Those accomplishments are not lies!_

Sephiroth embraces his anger, using it to clear his mind. "If you are not a divine being, then what are you?" the one-winged angel demands.

"A collective consciousness," Minerva replies calmly. "Tasked with protecting Gaia's Lifestream. I possess considerable power, though I am neither omnipotent nor omniscient."

Sephiroth's eyes narrow. "You hardly need omniscience to discern my goal. Or omnipotence to strike me down."

Minerva smiles and manifests a pedestal. "Join me?" she asks, sitting down.

Sephiroth eyes the pedestal, then reproduces the chair he sat in during negotiations with Emperor Kisaragi.

"The Cetra were astute to name a planet's source of mako its 'Lifestream'," Minerva begins once the one-winged angel is seated. "Water is an excellent analogy for mako. When mako rises from a Lifestream, it loses spirit energy and condenses. As water can form snowflakes or hail, so too can mako form spirits or materia. When mako encounters the vessel it needs to form a spirit, the result is able to absorb spirit energy from distant sources like the Sun. Thus when a vessel breaks, its spirit returns to the Lifestream and replenishes it."

"I'm aware of this," Sephiroth states. "Energy, by nature, disperses. Living things collect and hold energy, which temporarily counters this entropy."

Minerva nods. "On the Calamity's home world, spirits fought for dominance until one emerged victorious and imposed its pattern onto its planet's Lifestream. Unfortunately, specific patterns require specific vessels to survive, and the Calamity could not make its planet into a suitable vessel. It had to consume other Lifestreams because it was leaking energy much more quickly than it could absorb from nearby stars. The same would hold true for you, should you impose your pattern over Gaia's Lifestream."

"But you're different?" the one-winged angel inquires with a provocative note.

Minerva nods. "To continue the analogy, the amount of self-awareness and will a spirit possesses affects how long it takes to 'melt' in the Lifestream. Most spirits dissolve on contact. A rare few remain 'snowflakes' in the Lifestream--coherent but too tiny to affect its flow."

"Yet if enough snowflakes accumulate in the Lifestream, they can form a snowball."

"Precisely. When the Calamity arrived on Gaia, it sent many lives--including many Cetra lives--into the Lifestream, which resulted in an enormous 'snowball' that permanently altered the flow of the Lifestream. My awareness grew out of that altered course."

"So you did not create life," the one-winged angel muses. "Life created you."

"Do divine beings create mankind in their image, or does mankind craft idols in theirs?" Minerva says, as though reciting a familiar question.

Sephiroth's eyes widen in understanding. "Your appearance."

Minerva looks pleased. "Yes. The Cetra and humans have had the most impact upon my consciousness, so my default manifestation is an average of hominid appearances--despite the fact that hominids have always been vastly outnumbered by other lifeforms."

The one-winged angel blinks at the thought of conversing with a colony of bacteria. "That doesn't explain why you haven't killed me."

Minerva arches an eyebrow. "What does my appearance tell you about my mind?"

Sephiroth thinks back on his experiences before replying. "Forgiveness. Most individuals choose forgiveness over revenge or society would have never emerged. Since you act according to the majority, you will forgive my transgressions for as long as possible."

"That's part of it."

The one-winged angel frowns. "What else?"

Minerva smiles sadly. "Hope."

"Hope that I will repent? How's that different-" Sephiroth stops as Minerva shakes her head.

"What do people pray for most earnestly?"

"Money, fame-"

"Stop." For the first time, anger appears on Minerva's face. "Do not make light of the subject, _Specimen S_."

Sephiroth stills. "Protection. Or relief from suffering," he admits. "...Happiness," he adds challengingly.

Minerva nods. "There is no reason for spirits to suffer while they absorb energy from the stars. If I could, I would forestall suffering. But the pattern that produced my mind also prevents me from acting. On whose behalf does a collective consciousness intervene? Suppose I helped Wutai defeat Shinra during the war. It would have delivered thousands of Wutaians from misery, but what about the thousands of spirits in Midgar and other Shinra-controlled territories? As for Shinra, those who are aware of the true cost of the mako reactors urge me to destroy them, but many more urge me to stay my hand so they can provide for their loved ones."

"But you were able to act on Genesis' behalf," the one-winged angel notes. "By your logic, helping him could hurt someone else, so you shouldn't have been able to."

Minerva grins enigmatically. "Did I help Genesis?"

Sephiroth considers the possibilities. "You used Genesis to act on _my_ behalf?"

The collective consciousness' smile turns wry. "Virtually every being wants to live or die a natural death. So yes, once you posed an existential threat to the planet, I could act. Note though, my method of intervention."

"Through others."

Minerva shakes her head. "I brought others into the situation to make the most of my temporary freedom. But the salient point is that I used a _widely accepted_ form of divine intervention. I did not come up with something original. How could I? Most of me is necessarily focused on processing new information entering the Lifestream every day. Even if I came up with something new, how would I gain enough support to act on the idea? The spirits with the most impact on my decision-making are those with the most will, which would be the spirits just entering the Lifestream. I can't reach them while they live, and if I try to explain anything to them in the Lifestream the vast majority will have dissolved before I finish. The fact of the matter is that while I would not have existed without the deaths of so many Cetra, their subsequent extinction crippled me."

"So when you came across a spirit that not only remained intact but could affect life, and not just affect life but threaten it to the point where you can act, you pounced. You don't want me dead; you want me to help you," Sephiroth concludes.

"I want you to help Gaia," Minerva corrects. "I want you to build a better world."

"So you were testing me," Sephiroth says feeling angry all over again. "To see if you could mold me into a good little helper?"

"Every experience is a test, isn't it?" Minerva points out. "Either of character or of suitability. Humans change with every experience after all, and free will means the outcomes are unpredictable."

"That doesn't answer my question," Sephiroth states flatly.

Minerva tilts her head again. "Would you accept being my helper?"

"No." _I did not endure beyond death to change masters._

Minerva shrugs elegantly. "It wouldn't have worked anyway. Only astronomical changes can alter the flow of the Lifestream."

"Meteor."

"Yes," Minerva confirms. "You've seen what happens if you absorb the Lifestream without my help. I will shred as much knowledge as I can before I dissolve, because no being will help someone who seeks to obliterate them and everything they cherish. That leaves you with a barren world for an unsuitable vessel."

"But with your help?"

"With my help you should have the power and knowledge you need to use the Lifestream to create a new world. To become a god in every sense of the word."

"And the price is that I have to convince you."

Minerva nods. "Most beings are willing to sacrifice themselves for a worthy cause. Convince me you can create a world with free will but far less suffering. Convince me you are capable of defending that new world against threats like the Calamity. Do that, and everything I am is at your disposal."

Sephiroth nods slowly.

"I showed you the truth of your past. I brought before you those who've wronged you and they apologized sincerely. I brought _you_ before those _you've_ wronged and they have offered forgiveness should you seek it. Resolution and redemption--neither dissuaded you from your quest for existence and power. I cannot fathom what drives you, but perhaps whatever it is will let you succeed when the Calamity and I have failed."

The two beings regard each other silently.

Eventually, Sephiroth speaks. "Your name--you chose it?"

"Yes. I chose it from an ancient Cetra fairytale about a family of gods."

"Why?"

"It's the name of a goddess," Minerva replies with a faint smile. "The goddess of wisdom, strategy, and war. A reminder to myself of my duty."

"Does my name mean anything?"

"Sephiroth," Minerva pronounces softly. "Or 'sefirot'. It's from a bygone religion, used to refer to the attributes of an ultimate God, the one responsible for all of creation. There were ten attributes but some are lost now, even to me. The ones that are still known are wisdom, love, beauty, might...and kingship. Perhaps it is your destiny to rend this world and rebuild it."

Minerva stands and offers her hand. Sephiroth rises as well, and shakes the proffered hand cautiously.

"Merry Solstice, Prince Sephiroth."

"Merry Solstice, Goddess Minerva."

❈✯❈✯❈

Deep inside the Northern Cave, inside the North Crater, Sephiroth opens his eyes and gazes at the Black Materia in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Most abundant life forms on Earth: <http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20150211-whats-the-most-dominant-life-form>  
> 2\. Minerva: <https://www.britannica.com/topic/Minerva-Roman-goddess>  
> 3\. Sefirot: <https://www.britannica.com/topic/sefirot>  
> NOTE: Judaism is still widely practiced on Earth. Its decline on Gaia is only for story purposes and is not a comment on the religion or its practitioners.

**Author's Note:**

> A new take on an old tale... Hope you enjoy(ed) it ^.^


End file.
